Chapter 16

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

Saverio

I can't say my intentions for moving Anya in with me are pure. It has more to do with the lust coursing through my veins than the need to keep an eye on her. It's not even about making sure she's taking care of herself or putting up a front for the world that will convince the authorities about our romantic relationship. Sure, that's a major motivation. But I'm more interested in having her here so I can push her buttons and my boundaries. It's about wanting to strip her naked and come all over her porcelain skin. It's about a selfish need to explore the arousal she ignites, to see just how far she'll make me go.

Because she's a potent aphrodisiac.

She's got a strange kind of power over me, a power I don't understand, and if there's one thing I learned in my life, it's that it's dangerous to give someone power over you. It's essential to own all the power, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to figure out what this hold is she's got on me, and I'm going to take back control.

With that objective in mind, I steer her into the house. Taking her bag, I leave it on the entrance table.

I bought the mansion from an oil magnate. The dark hardwood floors and wall panels create a gloomy atmosphere, but the windows let in plenty of light.

I watch her closely as I guide her up the stairs. She gawks at the paintings on the walls and the priceless Samurai statues and Japanese vases.

We stop on the landing. I give her a minute when she pauses to take in the pressed ceiling and crystal chandeliers. The apartment she lives in is nice, but from what Livy told me, the environment Anya grew up in is a far cry from the luxury surrounding her.

It can seem overwhelming. I know. It took time to get used to the extravagance when Luigi took me in. The lavish décor and fancy fittings of my place still catch me off guard at times. I suppose the newness hasn't worn off. It doesn't help that I spend so little time at home. When I moved out of the house I shared with Rachele, I didn't care where I went. I simply walked into the first house that came onto the market for over a few million and bought the place, furniture and all.

"What do you think?" I ask, genuinely curious about her opinion as I lead her down the hallway.

She tilts her head to study a portrait of someone's ancestor I don't know. "Is this your family?"

I chuckle. "No."

She looks at me. "Then who is it?"

My laugh is dry. "I have no idea. It came with the house."

"You didn't decorate it yourself?" she asks with surprise.

"I don't have time for that."

She frowns. "So you'd rather live in a place someone else made a home."

I raise a brow and ask with amusement, "Are you judging me, Ms. Brennan? Weren't you living in a place that came furnished?"

A flush runs up her neck. "It's not the same. I don't have the money to decorate it." Waving a hand at the expensive furnishings, she continues, "You obviously do."

"I have better things to do."

She glances at the portraits we pass and says in a wistful tone, "That's kind of sad."

"Don't you like it?"

"It's…" She hesitates. "Very impressive."

"But?"

She stops dead and faces me squarely. "What I think about your house doesn't matter, so why do you ask?"

"It matters if you're to live here."

"I can't live here." Desperation creeps into her tone. "It's a crazy idea."

"The police are asking questions about us. They're suspicions about the authenticity of our relationship." I lean closer. "We're going to make this look so real that no one will have a doubt about how serious we are about each other."

She stares at me with big eyes. "I can't do this."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice." I lower my voice, letting the warning carry on my words. "But don't worry. You'll get lots of practice. You'll be the perfect doting girlfriend." My smile is all for show. "Your life depends on how well you play your role."

The color drains from her cheeks.

"I'm glad you understand," I say, taking her arm.

She neither resists nor says anything when I lead her to the end of the hallway and finish our tour in the master suite.

Inside, I let her go. "This is our bedroom."

"Our?" She searches my eyes with a panicked look. "Why must we share a room?"

"A cleaning company comes in once a week. I sometimes have visitors. The police may question them. You'll sleep in my bed where my girlfriend belongs." I walk to the dressing room and open the door. "I had a few things delivered while I was gone. I'll have the rest of your belongings moved tomorrow."

She approaches cautiously, as if she expects a vile surprise. When she stops on the threshold, her mouth drops open.

"Have a look," I say. "You can make a list of everything I overlooked. I'll send for any items you may need in the morning."

"You got me clothes?" she asks, her gaze moving over the shelves stacked with T-shirts, pants, shoes, and handbags.

"I didn't get them for anyone else," I reply with humor.

"What's wrong with my clothes?" she asks with a hint of defensiveness.

"Nothing."

She motions at the shelves. "Then why all this?"

"You'll attend dinners and parties with me. We'll often be seen together in public. As your boyfriend, it's normal that I'd get you nice things to wear."

"Is it?" She squints at me. "Normal?"

"Yes," I drawl, ignoring her jibe at the absurdity of our situation. "That's what I'd do for any girlfriend."

Her mouth tightens. "I assume that means you don't have one at the moment."

"You wouldn't be here if I did."

"Where would I have been?" Her look is cutting. "Six feet under somewhere on a pretty hill?"

I only smile. It no doubt would've complicated matters if I were in a relationship. I would've had to make it look as if I were cheating on my partner with Anya—while letting my girlfriend in on the farce—but the mere thought ignites an old, volatile anger.

"Go on," I say, tilting my head toward the rows of dresses and coats in every color of the rainbow. "If what I chose isn't to your taste, we can go shopping this weekend." I can't help but add, "Like a loving boyfriend and girlfriend." At the flare of her nostrils, I wave a white flag with a small piece of honesty. "Considering your condition, I thought I'd save you the hours of being on your feet while browsing for clothes."

"Hours?" She scoffs. "Is that how you do shopping?"

"Isn't that how all women do shopping?"

"Only women with money," she mumbles under her breath, not bothering to hide the judgement in her voice.

"You certainly don't behave like the women I know. Anyone else would've been on this in a blink. Don't you like new clothes and cupboards full of shoes?"

Her back goes stiff. "Whatever you got will do."

She's hardheaded and feisty. We're going to knock heads going forward, but I can't say I'm not thrilled about the challenge.

"Maybe," I say. "But I'd still like to hear your opinion."

"If you insist," she says with snide.

I wave an arm, motioning her inside. "I do."

She moves forward with stilted steps, studying the side of the room where my suits and shirts are organized by color before turning her attention to the new clothes on the opposite side.

I cross my arms and lean a shoulder on the door frame, watching her as she inspects the space. It's something I enjoy—watching her. As I discovered during the past week, I like to observe her to the point of branding myself as a stalker. I revel in the knowledge that the beautiful woman I'm keeping on an invisible leash belongs to me. My own little treasure.

She trails a hand over the evening dresses that hang in the closet and lifts the price tag on a pair of designer jeans.

Her gaze snaps to mine. "This is maternity wear."

"I got clothes for now and later."

She scrutinizes me. "How long are you planning on keeping me here?"

I shrug. "As long as it takes. The investigation isn't likely to be closed in a few short months."

"Months?" she asks, her gasp breathless. "Do you expect me to live here and sleep in your bed for months ?"

"Think of it like this. You won't have to worry about the bills while you're here. That includes all medical expenses."

The color returns to her cheeks, red blotches marring her skin. Not earning enough to take care of her mother and herself is obviously a sore point for her.

She clenches her jaw. "Are you buying me off? Is that what this is? Payment for lying for you?"

My statement is blunt. "I don't need to buy you off." We both know how easy it will be for me to snap her neck if she doesn't cooperate. "You'll be living under my roof. It'll be my duty to provide for you."

"Just because I'll be living here?" she asks, sounding incredulous.

"I take responsibility for the people under my care."

"This is different. Our relationship isn't real. We're nothing to each other. You don't owe me anything."

"This is no different than an arranged marriage. Why would I treat you differently than a wife I would've gained from a business deal? I would've taken her under my protection and cared for her, as would've been my obligation. I'll treat you no less."

Shock reflects in the stunning golden hue of her eyes. "For how long are you going to put up this show, Sav?"

At the sound of my name on her lips, something warm unfurls in my stomach. "I already told you, for however long it takes."

"What about my baby?"

"You and your baby will be safe here. I'll protect you."

"That's not what I meant." She crosses the floor and stops in front of me. "I can't stay here after the birth. I may not have a choice, but I won't make my child your hostage too."

Even in that, she has no choice, but I don't tell her so. "This is already a lot to take in. Why don't we take things one day at a time?"

"What happens after I've served my purpose?" Her gaze plays over my face with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. "Do we break up ? Do you make up a story about how we fell out of love ?"

What she really wants to know is if I'll kill her. "Play your role convincingly, and I'll make sure nothing happens to you. If you take care of me, I'll take care of you."

"So it's a trade. I ensure your freedom, and in return, you guarantee my safety."

"If that's how you want to look at it."

"Except for one tiny detail." Anger glimmers in her eyes. "I don't have a choice."

I don't mind giving her the ugly truth. "Correct."

The sound of the doorbell cuts our exchange short.

"Take your time to go through the clothes," I say, straightening. "I'll be back shortly."

At the end of the hallway, I check the security panel screen. Luigi and Giorgio stand on the threshold, staring at the camera.

I go downstairs and open the door. "This is a surprise."

"We need to talk," Luigi says, leaning his weight on his cane as he pushes past me.

"Go through." I step aside for Giorgio to enter. "You know the way."

A glance up the street ensures me the men stationed in front of the house are in place. Now that Anya will be living here, security is a priority. I'm not fucking with her safety.

I usher my guests into the study and close the door. "Drink?"

Luigi sits down in the chair facing my desk. "No." He keeps one hand on the carved wolf head of his cane, balancing it next to the chair as he watches me with a sullen face. "We need to find a new bookkeeper."

"What about the Mancini guy?" I ask, going to the wet bar. "I thought you wanted him to take over from Lewis."

Giorgio perches on the corner of my desk. "He died of a heart attack this morning."

Pouring a brandy, I measure Luigi. "Who's taking over in the interim?"

Luigi grunts. "Antonio."

"Your nephew?" I ask with unconcealed surprise.

"He's all we've got for now," Luigi says.

"Candidates?" I ask, carrying the glass to Giorgio.

Giorgio takes the drink. "No one we trust enough."

"I'll look into it," I say. "No disrespect intended, but Antonio doesn't have the braincells for the job. We need someone with solid experience and knowledge of the business, someone who knows the legal and the tax systems as well as the loopholes."

"Any ideas?" Luigi asks in a gravelly voice.

Giorgio rests an elbow on his knee. "None like Mancini. Why didn't we know the motherfucker had a weak heart?"

"I know a few guys who may fit the bill," I say. "Leave it with me. I need to check them out first."

"Get back to me by next week," Luigi says, pushing to his feet with a groan. He adds on his way to the door, "If we leave the books with Antonio for too long, everything will be in a fucking mess."

Giorgio downs his drink and leaves the glass on the desk. "Have you changed your mind about the club?"

Luigi turns on the threshold. "You did a good job in Boston. It deserves a celebration. Drinks at the club are on me." He points a finger at me. "Tomorrow night. Make it around nine."

Giorgio shoots a smirk my way as he crosses the floor, finally having gotten his way. I flip him off, which only makes him grin wider.

"Tomorrow night," I tell Luigi in a neutral tone.

Not waiting for me to get the door, Luigi opens it and exits with Giorgio in tow.

As I follow them down the hallway, movement at the top of the staircase catches my attention.

I look up.

Anya stands on the landing, gripping the balustrade as she stares down at us. Her eyes flare as her gaze lands on Giorgio, and then her pretty face turns white.

I don't acknowledge her lest I draw their attention to my new inhabitant, but Giorgio is like a bloodhound, always fast to catch on. He's slowed down, falling in step with me. Before I have time to turn my face away, he follows the direction of my gaze. His eyes narrow with recognition. Like the sly, intuitive boss Luigi is, he senses the disquiet without anyone having said a word. Stopping, he glances back at Giorgio, who still has his face tipped toward the landing. Luigi lifts his head.

His tone is curious. Calculated. "You have a guest."

I gnash my teeth. It's hardly the right moment to introduce them. Keeping my voice even, I say, "This is Anya."

He nods politely while dissecting her with his gaze. "Pleased to meet you."

Giorgio observes her with an unreadable expression but with no less interest.

Resisting the urge to punch him in the face, I open the door. "I'll have a list of candidates for you by Friday."

Luigi smiles in my direction, but his attention stays with Anya even as he walks through the door.

On the porch, he pauses. "Is she the one?"

Giorgio watches me quietly. Too closely.

"Yes," I say, carefully schooling my features.

Luigi comes closer, stopping short of me. His voice carries softly, but the threat is clear. "When this is over, you will make her disappear."

It takes everything I have and then some to keep my poker face. "I may still have a use for her."

"Sav is right," Giorgio says. "We need her in case new evidence is found. Like Sav said, she can testify that we visited Lewis because she introduced us."

"You'll do what's right when the time comes," Luigi says before turning and climbing down the stairs.

Giorgio shoots me a look over his shoulder as he follows his father and opens the car door for him.

I clench my hands into fists as they get into the car and, a moment later, drive off.

Anya is mine.

She's not going anywhere.

Not now.

Not soon.

Not ever.

If I'm to keep her safe, I'll have to claim her, and I'll have to do it publicly.